The Light of Stars
by AsterEris
Summary: Lynara - daughter of Marien, princess of the elves, and Narsor, a human warrior. She has no place in either world, and struggles to find the purpose of existence. Until the fateful day that a mysterious green stone appears at the edge of Du Weldenvarden.
1. Lynara

Here's my idea, which will probably go unfinished, but I don't want it floating around in my head anymore

Here's my idea, which will probably go unfinished, but I don't want it floating around in my head anymore.

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Quick Summary of the Story:

Lynara knows she does not belong. She never has, and she never will. That much she has been clear from the first day of her life – that alone. The daughter of an elf and a human, she fits nowhere. Her mother, a glorious elf princess who fell in love with a mortal, has long since disappeared into the depths of Du Weldenvarden, following the death of her beloved. Lynara's father was a warrior who could not resist her mother's charm and beauty. He died alone.

Lynara lives on the fringe of Du Weldenvarden, among an elf family who took her in out of pity. They treat her like a servant and make cruel jokes about her ancestry. Her only comfort is magic, and the kindness of her teacher, an old elf named Anurin.

After the Final Battle against Galbatorix, in which Eragon Shadeslayer was mortally wounded, the land of Alagaësia lies in turmoil. Murtagh and Thorn fly back and forth, eradicating the last resistance that exists against the Empire. It is only a matter of time before Galbatorix creates another vast army and marches against the elves. Eragon and Saphira are hidden away on the Crags of Taelnaír (remind me how to spell this, I can't find it in the book), awaiting their doom. The last hope for the survival of the elves and all of Alagaësia is the last dragon egg. But there is only one problem – the egg has disappeared.

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The three elves stood in a circle, two men and a woman, their feline faces grave. The tallest, an old elf with silvered hair and gray eyes, spoke up first.

"This is the fourth occasion, Lynara, daughter of Marien, that we have gathered here because of you. It is high time you learned some respect." The other elves nodded solemnly.

Lynara, the girl in question, was seated opposite them in a slender high-backed chair, sung just last week from an ash tree. Her clear blue eyes flickered back and forth between the others, her face expressionless.

"You dishonor us with your imprudent actions and your lack of integrity," added the elf woman with flowing red hair and a dress made of flowers.

"Therefore, we have come to decision," stated the silver-haired elf. He glanced at his companions, then at the floor, and then at Lynara. "You have one more chance. If you cannot learn to control yourself, we will cast you out of this house."

All three nodded in agreement, and then darted away, as if standing for so long in one place had pushed them past their limits. Lynara held perfectly still for a moment, until she was sure that they were all gone, and then she let out a loud breath and slumped back into the chair.

"A plague on all elves!" she hissed quietly to herself. She allowed herself a moment to fume, and then she expertly cleared her mind, focusing instead on the sounds of birdsong filtering through the windows of the treehouse.

It was a beautiful day, and Lynara was determined not to let her adopted family's cruelty darken her mood. The three elves had taken her in as a child, but they had never accepted her as one of their own. The fact that human blood ran in her veins seemed grounds enough to make her life miserable. The girl shuddered.

Moving with the grace of an elf, Lynara rose out of the chair and danced to the door, leaping out of the house and landing on the ground with catlike ease. Before she had a chance to take a breath she was running, the trees whipping past her as she sprinted through the forest. Sunlight dappled the undergrowth and cast shadows across her fair skin as she ran.

A little while later, Lynara came to a sudden stop at the bank of a stream. To untrained eyes, there was nothing unusual about the small clearing that was nestled between two enormous oak trees. To Lynara, it was better than home.

"Anurin!" she called, her voice like the babbling of the brook that ran at her feet.

The forest was silent for a heartbeat, and then a sudden movement disrupted the calm. High in the branches of one of the oak trees, a pale face peered out of a window that belonged to a camouflaged house, sung out of the oak's trunk.

Gleefully, Lynara sprang from branch until she was level with the house. Though a narrow staircase wound its way around the trunk for the convenience of more sedate guests, Lynara preferred the natural way.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin," Lynara greeted, in the proper way of the elves.

A small door swung outward from the trunk of the oak, and a slender elven woman stepped out. Her hair was so black that it seemed almost blue in the sunlight, though streaked with silver. Her skin was pale and appeared almost translucent. Her eyes were blank, white, and unseeing.

"Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr," replied the old woman in a warm, melodious voice, her sightless eyes shifting as she straightened and faced Lynara.

"Un du evarinya ono varda," finished Lynara. "Kvetha, Anurin svit-kona."

The elf woman smiled pleasantly and gestured toward the door of her house. "Come in, Lynara. Something troubles you and I would have you speak your heart."

Gratefully, Lynara stepped past Anurin and into the small house. She entered a round room with a low ceiling, furnished with two comfortable chairs, a rug, and desk that was littered with an odd assortment of tools and instruments of magic. A fireplace formed of dense wood took up much of the far side of the room. She sank into one of the chairs and released a sigh of relief.

Anurin pulled the door shut behind her and walked slowly to the desk. From beneath it she drew a small teapot, which she set on a hook in the fireplace. Without hesitation, Lynara murmured, "Brisingr," and a small fire sprang up between two logs.

Anurin smiled, then walked slowly to the other chair and sat down delicately. "What brings you here, Lynara? Surely your not having trouble with the spells I taught you yesterday?

Lynara shook her head, staring mournfully at her hands. "No, no – they gave me no trouble. But Däsedr gave me another lecture."

A knowing look passed over Anurin's placid features. "You must be strong at heart Lynara. Think of the kindness that Däsedr and his family have shown you, and cleanse your soul of anger. Anger warps magic to wreak terrible things."

Clenching her hands into fists, Lynara bit back a sharp retort, instead drawing in a deep breath and trying to release the tension that was built up in her chest. At that moment, a sharp whistle cut through her concentration. The teapot rattled, indicating that the water inside had boiled.

Anurin rose, slowly, and walked, slowly, to the fire. She gently lifted the teapot from its hook, then shuffled back to the desk. Pushing aside a blank slab of stone, she uncovered a tray and two teacups, already filled with the leaves of a fragrant plant. The water hissed and steamed as it was poured.

Lynara accepted the drink eagerly from the old elf and waited politely for her to seat herself again before taking a long, thirsty sip.

"Slower. Enjoy the taste," Anurin admonished. "You must learn patience, Lynara, for a spell cast with undue haste often goes awry."

When she had first agreed to become Anurin's apprentice, Lynara had been furious with the elf's slow pace and constant cryptic advice. After a while though, and as she grew and matured, she had learned to the take the old woman more seriously. The pieces of information that she slipped into every sentence were more valuable than many of her myriad lessons.

Once she had finished her tea, Lynara placed the cup on the windowsill to be washed later in the stream, and then returned to her seat, waiting calmly for Anurin to finish with her own.

"I find less and less comfort in magic and the peace of the forest," Lynara explained once her master had abandoned her own teacup. "I find that no matter how hard I try to empty my mind, it is filled with thoughts that now refuse to be still."

Anurin nodded sagely, her fingers pressed together on her lap. Her white eyes stared vacantly into the distant, though her expression portrayed rapt attention. "What thoughts are these that clamor for your attention? Perhaps they must be resolved."

Taking another deep breath, Lynara murmured, "I will never fit in here. And yet among humans I am as a god, and have no place either. Is there anywhere that I can feel accepted?"

Her words hovered in the air. Anurin made no move to reply, but merely stared at nothing, her chest rising and falling in a nearly undetectable rhythm. The sound of the stream churned in Lynara's ear as her patience was eaten up by time. Finally, as Lynara began to wonder if Anurin had fallen asleep, the elf woman responded.

"You must carve your own hollow in the forest, Lynara, daughter of Marien. There are none like you, that is true, and yet it is a blessing that has been bestowed on your for a reason. You are the child of an elf woman and a human man, and you alone and can find the true meaning of what you are. It is your destiny – one that no other can accomplish. You, Lynara, have been entrusted with a legend, and it is up to you to decide whether it will be sung in the melancholy halls of darkness and sorrow, or in the gardens of glory and joy."

Her voice echoed ominously in Lynara's ears.

"Come with me, Lynara. I have something to show you."

Anurin rose from her seat and glided to the door, which she opened unhurriedly. Surprised, Lynara followed her out the door. The elf woman began to descend the staircase that wound its way to the forest floor, a slender hand following the line of the trunk to make sure she didn't fall. Lynara followed respectfully behind, though she longed to swing down through the branches at a bird's pace.

When they had reached the ground, almost 10 minutes later, Anurin's face was contorted in a grimace of pain. The elf woman had lived through uncountable years of strife and agony, and by now, any great movement made her limbs ache. Lynara longed to mutter a spell of healing to relive her mentor's pain, but it was one of Anurin's cardinal rules that Lynara never aid her with magic. Instead, the black-haired girl darted forward and took Anurin's arm, supporting her weight while the lady caught her breath.

"Where are you taking me, _ebrithil_? Spare yourself the labor and have a guide show me this place," Lynara offered pleadingly.

Anurin shook her head, as Lynara knew she would, and murmured. "This I must do with you, my child." After another moment of silence, Anurin gently pushed away from Lynara and set out, her steps slow and deliberate. Though the woman was entirely blind, she had been without sight so long that it barely hindered her. She knew every step of the forest almost as well as her own skin, and where did not know a way, she would glean the information from the minds of the forest creatures around her. It was a slow method of travel, which was why Anurin rarely left her oak-tree home, but it was affective.

"We all face many choices in our lives, Lynara," she said, as she and the girl traveled languidly through the forest. Lynara nodded and looked across at her master, waiting for a follow up. Anurin said nothing more.

The old teacher's house was very close to the edge of Du Weldenvarden. Only a mile or two of dense forest shielded it from the hostilities of the Empire. Anurin was one of many elf magicians who had made their homes close to the edge, in order to protect their race if Galbatorix finally made his move on the forest. She spent most of her time erecting and maintaining wards around the wood, and the rest of it teaching Lynara her craft.

The sun had passed its zenith and was descending into the trees when finally, Lynara's keen elven eyes could make out the thinning of the trees. She was about to mention it to Anurin when the elf woman murmured, "We approach the edge of the forest."

It took them another ten or fifteen minutes before the trees began to disappear. Before the pair lay a vast prairie of yellow grass, gusts of wind making the rolling hills look like a gentle ocean of molten gold.

"It's beautiful," Lynara murmured.

"Yes," Anurin agreed. "I remember it from my childhood, long ago, and I can see it my mind's eye even as you do."

They stood there for sometime, the old elf woman reminiscing about her past, and Lynara pondering her future. A sudden revelation struck Lynara as the sun sunk below the horizon and night began to fall. She was about to voice her thoughts to Anurin when the elf woman suddenly stiffened and cried out.

"Anurin!" Lynara yelled. The elf woman's eyes had frozen and her face was twisted in a grimace of fear. Her slender hands clutched at Lynara's arm as a silent scream hissed between her lips. "Anurin! What's happening?" Lynara fell to her knees, cradling her teacher's head in her arms. As she prepared to use magic to call for help, afraid of somehow harming her teacher by healing her, a great crack sounded in Lynara's ears. She screamed, overwhelmed by the suddenness of the sound, and her hands left Anurin's cheeks to cover her ears.

The sound was gone as soon as it had come, and a qui breath escaped Anurin's lips. Lynara's slowly took her hands away from her ears, staring at Anurin's face. The woman's body had gone suddenly slack at Lynara's knees, and a small smile graced her features. Her white eyes did not move, and when Lynara bent to her chest, no breath moved in and out of Anurin's lungs.

The gentle magician was dead.


	2. Golden Plains

Lynara stared, disbelieving, at her mentor's calm face.

"Anurin?" she called quietly, touching the elf's cheek gently with the tip of her slender index finger. Of course, there was no response. _How is this possible?_ Lynara thought to herself, disbelief taking control of her brain. She stared at Anurin for a long, silent moment. Then suddenly, she leaped to her feet, tossing Anurin's body to the ground.

"_Why is this happening to _me?" she shouted furiously at the tranquil sky. No matter how much Lynara wished it would answer, the vast purple space remained silent. She glared at it for a moment longer, challenging, before lowering her gaze to Anurin's prone form once more.

"Oh Anurin – you were the mother I never had. What evil has befallen you?" Conscious of the fragile structure of her mentor's skeleton, Lynara lifted her from the ground, her weight feather-light in the girl's strong arms. Slowly, her face solemn, Lynara began to walk toward the treeline. All of a sudden, she remembered the strange sound that had interrupted Anurin's last moments of life. Curiosity warred with the duty to her teacher, and won. Gently, Lynara laid Anurin's body against the base of a stunted tree, and turned to survey the grasslands. She did not have to look far to find the source of the noise.

Some sort of explosion had charred a vast stretch of grass. Sickly tendrils of smoke rose from the blackened earth, only to be whipped away in the sporadic gusts of wind that billowed across the plains. Cautious of some strange magic, Lynara crept forward, crouching low the ground. She opened her mind and reached out, searching for anything that might present danger. She could feel nothing but the slow, deliberate consciousness of the plants and a multitude of small creatures in the grass, all of which were busy scurrying away from the site. Satisfied with her search, Lynara straightened and walked forward, her soft leather boots throwing up clouds of ash.

At the very center of the blast radius laid a strange object, buried halfway amidst a pile of black soot. Carefully, warily, Lynara brushed away the cinders. As the last flakes drifted away, Lynara gave a small gasp. _Impossible._ Unmarked by the explosion and cleared of debris, the object could not have been more obvious. It was an emerald green stone, polished to an impossible sheen, with small lines of white running through the color like the cracks in a glazed pot. Lynara reached out to touch the stone and found that it was as smooth as glass, and slightly warmer than a normal rock.

She knew what it was without even picking up, although the lightness of the oval stone was an obvious indication. It was a dragon egg, and the last in Alagaësia.


	3. What Magic is This?

_The last dragon egg in all of Alagaësia. But how did it get here?_ Lynara wondered. She cradled the egg in her arms, stroking its impossibly perfect surface while studying the minute whorls and flecks amidst the green. She hadn't been aware of anyone sent to steal the egg from Galbatorix, but then she and her adoptive family were somewhat isolated from the rest of the elves, living so close to the edge of the forest. It was also possible that whoever had managed to obtain the egg had been working on their own. But then why send it here? She had heard all the stories of Saphira's egg and how Arya had been overwhelmed by the Shade, Durza. Out of desperation, the elf ambassador had used magic to send the egg to Brom, who had once been a Rider. The spell had consumed Arya's strength and nearly killed her.

On the other hand, if whoever had stolen the egg had meant to send it to the elves as a last resort to protect it from harm, it would make sense that it might appear here. It was impossible to send something by magic into Du Weldenvarden, due to the wards around it, so anything meaning to arrive inside the forest would instead appear at its edge. It still didn't answer the question of who had sent the egg in the first place; a question that Lynara knew would plague her incessantly until she discovered the answer.

When she reached the place where she had laid Anurin's body, Lynara was faced with a sudden dilemma. There was no question that she had to keep the egg, at least until she could travel to Ellesméra to give it to Islanzadi herself. She didn't trust Däsedr or his children, the other two elves who lived with them. They would use the egg to their own ends, no matter how drastic the situation. No, Lynara would settle with nothing less than a meeting with the Queen of the Elves.

Her issue at the moment, though, was how to carry the egg and her mentor. Lynara glanced at Anurin and choked back a sob of horror. _There will be time to grieve later_, she scolded herself quietly. _Now I must get them both back to the house._

Lynara strode over to the tree where Anurin lay, propped against its trunk, her face as serene as ever. She reached up one finger and gently stroked the elf's face, then set the dragon egg down beside her. There was no way she could carry both at the same time without dishonoring her mentor's memory by slinging the elf's body over her shoulder. The only idea that presented itself at the moment was to construct some sort of sledge on which she could pull Anurin back to the clearing by the stream. It would take time, but no more than would be cost in leaving her here while carrying the egg to the house and then coming back.

With not further consideration, Lynara set to work, felling dead trees with magic and collecting twigs. She cut limbs into equal lengths and laid them side by side, then began a song of growing, urging some lengths of grass to grow and intertwine themselves among the branches. She sang and sang, every word layered with a spell in the ancient language, until the branches were as secure as they could be. Satisfied, Lynara closed her mind and severed the blades of grass at their stems with her fingernails, unwilling to be connected to them as she stole their lives.

Tying some more grass into a crude rope, she fashioned a makeshift harness on one end of the sledge, slipping the rope over her head so that it would pull against her chest. Then she turned and gently dragged Anurin's body onto the sledge, orienting her in such a way that the old elf woman might have been merely asleep. Then Lynara picked up the egg, grateful for it's light weight. Taking a deep breath, she strained against the harness. The Rope tightened and pulled taut, and for a moment Lynara worried that it might break.

"_Thaefathan!" _Lynara directed the rope. "Thicken!" The grass swelled and turned brown, becoming more like the roots of a tree. When she was satisfied with it's strength, the girl stemmed the flow of magic, than threw once more against the weight of the sledge, gripping the green egg to her side so hard that her knuckles turned white. Anurin had been old and frail though, so it was not overly difficult for Lynara to pull the sledge. Once she had gained momentum, it was barely a strain on her muscles, toned from years of exploring Du Weldenvarden's edge.

Night had cast its full black blanket over the forest by the time Lynara could make out the sound of the stream. Relief swept through her, giving her muscles the extra strength needed to pull the sledge into the clearing. Lynara collapsed onto the grass, drawing ragged breaths through her lungs, the dragon egg pressing into her ribs as a constant reminder of her predicament.

After remained there for some time, letting the babbling of the brook sooth her tumultuous thoughts and the cool grass sooth her aching limbs, she rose slowly to her feet and looked around. It was black as pitch, but her elven eyes pierced the darkness with ease. A candle burned in the window of the oak house high in the branches – the one candle that Anurin always left burning throughout the day and night. Sorrow threatened to grip Lynara's mind again, but she pushed it away with considerable effort.

Determined, Lynara rose, leaving the dragon egg lying on the soft grass by her feet. She then turned to the sledge, upon which Anurin lay, her simple white cloak spattered with mud from the long journey through the woods. Expelling a resigned sigh, Lynara gathered the elf's ice-cold body and began the fatiguing ascent to the treehouse.

She opened the small door with a word of the ancient language and gratefully position Anurin in one of the chairs, folding the magician's hands over her lap with a loving reverence. She stooped through the door and swung from branch to branch down the ground, where she collected the green dragon egg and then walked back up the stairs, her legs dragging and her eyelids threatening to close. Though the head the strength and sense of an elf, her stamina was not quite as good.

The egg Lynara placed carefully on top of Anurin's cluttered desk. She cast one last glance at each before climbing through a narrow stairway to a small enclosed room, where she dropped onto Anurin's simple bed. She was asleep before she had drawn the blanket up around her chin.


	4. The Hatching

_Crack!_ Lynara's blue eyes flashed open. Her heart pounded rhythmically in her ears as she waited for the sound to come again. _Crack!_ As quickly as she dared, Lynara slid from the bed and peered around the wall, looking down the staircase and into the main room of Anurin's house. She was faced with her teacher's pale features, outlined by the moonlight streaming through the small window. Lynara flinched, blinking away the garish image.

_Crack!_ Her thoughts blurred by sleep, the half-human half-elf girl made her way down the staircase and into the low-ceilinged room. The embers from yesterday's fire smoldered in the depths of the fireplace. Anurin's candle had gone out. _Crack! _Lynara jumped, turning around and searching for the source of the noises. Her eyes rested on the green dragon egg that sat upon Anurin's desk. She watched it for a long moment, realization seeping through her consciousness like a slow-moving stream. _Crack!_ The egg jolted and wobbled, and a tiny piece of shell popped up.

Breathing in ragged gasps, Lynara stepped forward to watch as more tiny pieces of eggshell were cracked away, falling to the desk. Little by little, an opening appeared in the top of the emerald-colored egg. The dragon was hatching.

In wonder, Lynara waited. She leaned against the edge of the desk, her gaze trained on the egg as a pile of tiny egg pieces grew around it. Inside, there was nothing but shadow. Then suddenly, a warbling chirp erupted from the depths of the egg. It echoed inside the tiny chamber. The sound tugged on Lynara's heartstrings, but she made no move towards the egg, still merely watching, and waiting.

Finally, just as the first light of dawn touched the tips of the trees, there came a shuddering scrape, and the egg split into two jagged pieces. Standing on the desk, draped in a sticky membrane, was a baby dragon. It had scales the color of new grass, of a deep stream, of dew-covered moss, and of pure emerald. Leathery, translucent jade wings were folded across its back. And two clear, faceted green eyes stared back at Lynara from the desk. She exhaled slowly, losing herself in the eyes of the baby dragon. It stared back at her pensively, its head cocked to one side. Then, suddenly, it released an earsplitting screech, revealing rows of tiny sharp teeth.

The sound woke Lynara from her daydreaming. Steeling herself and drawing in a deep breath to calm her raging heart, she reached her hand forward. The dragon eyed her fingers for a moment, and then jabbed its head forward faster than a striking snake. It's jaw closed around her finger, fangs biting deep into Lynara's pale skin. At that moment, a blast of icy pain shot up her arm, and blackness swept through her mind.

Lynara woke up some time later, with the light of the sun shining directly on her face. She blinked, and then propped herself on her elbows and looked around. She had fainted in the middle of the room, and appeared to have slept for a few hours at least. As she surveyed the room, the memories of that morning came flooding back. _A baby dragon!_ She thought to herself, a smile creeping across her face. Than a bolt of pain brought her back to reality. She glanced at her right hand. The first thing she noticed was a smear of blood on her fingers, and the jagged wound that the dragon had inflicted when he bit her. The next was the glow that emanated from her palm. She lifted her hand to eye level and stared at the swirl of light that was now permanently tattooed upon her skin. There was no mistaking it: the _gedwëy ignasia _was burned into the pale flesh of her hand.

A picture suddenly formed in her mind, and not by her own bidding. It was merely a splash of colors, but the feeling connected to the image was obvious. _Hunger_.

Resignedly, Lynara rose fluidly to her feet, her sharp gaze doing a once-over of the room. All was as it had been that morning, except for one thing. The baby dragon had moved from its perch on the desk to the remaining chair, and was watching Lynara expectantly. The picture was thrust into her mind again, and this time she understood.

"You're hungry," she murmured to the dragon. Walking to the chair, Lynara extended her hand. She knew enough about dragons and dragon lore to be able to care for the dragon, but beyond that she was as ignorant as any Urgal or Dwarf. Living on the outskirts of society had its disadvantages.

One thing was more certain, though, and the now-faded scar on Lynara's palm was more than enough proof. This dragon had hatched for her, which would make her a Rider. Of all the possible things to happen in the world, this was the one the black-haired girl had least expected.

The dragon watched her intently as Lynara climbed through the door, and then crawled smoothly to the windowsill to watch as she leaped down through the branches of the oak tree to the smooth grass hollow beneath. Though, like all elves, she was loathe to take the life of another creature, the health of the baby dragon had become her first priority, and no amount of discomfort would alter her new mindset. Determined, Lynara took a step forward, opening her mind to the forest around her.

An indignant squawk interrupted her thoughts. She turned, her mind suddenly bombarded by a series of feelings: fear, anger, loneliness, frustration, and of course, the undercurrent of hunger. Lynara looked at up at the house, where the green dragon was leaning out over the edge of the windowsill, glaring at her as only a dragon could. She understood the meaning of its thoughts. It was afraid of being left alone, angry at her for walking away, frustrated that it could not fly after her, and ravenous.

Mustering her concentration, Lynara conjured up a thought-image of her own: _Stay here, I bring food._ She projected the image into the dragon's mind across the connection that now linked them, hoping to impress upon it the need to obey.

What she found on the other end of the link made her stumble back. Expecting a weak consciousness, Lynara was astounded at the depth of the dragon's mind. Despite that fact that it was a baby, it possessed a vast and alien awareness, developed of countless years biding time in its egg, the dragon was in fact incomparably intelligent, and the overarching feeling that dominated its thoughts for the moment was the feeling of impatience. It could not wait until it was old enough to voice its true thoughts to its new Rider. Shuddering, Lynara passed on her thought and then recoiled quickly from the dragon's mind.

The creature eyed her warily, accepting the image. It seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then gave a huff of resignation and curled into a ball on the windowsill. As Lynara walked away, a small tendril of thought worked its way into her mind, an emotion that she could only describe as limitless and everlasting love.


	5. Of Emeralds and Dreams

Hey, I apologize for all the mistakes in those past few chapters; I wrote them all really vast and really late at night, so I wasn't at my most coherent. Hopefully these next ones will be better.

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Sun was streaming through the small window of Anurin's bedroom when Lynara's eyes cracked open. She yawned widely, rolled her neck, and then slid from the bed, blinking sleep from her eyes. A muffled snort alerted her to the baby dragon's presence. He was curled on the pillow, right next to the indentation left by her head. One emerald eye followed her as she walked across the room, but the dragon made no move to get up.

Lynara walked down the narrow staircase and into the main room. She had toiled all yesterday afternoon to dig a grave for Anurin at the base of the oak, and last night she had carried the dragon to the ground so say a few words over the body before laying her teacher to rest. She had held back her tears then, but they still threatened to overflow at any minute. The only thing keeping her from submitting to her grief was the constant reminder of her new duty to the dragon – every few hours it clamored to be fed.

Even over the past two days, the dragon's growth was practically visible, at least to her sharpened elven eyes. Its tail had grown thicker and a fraction of an inch longer, and the long ivory claws had hardened and began to take on a lusty shine. Lynara had checked the previous day to determine the gender of the dragon, and through various spells and convoluted communications across their new link, she had discovered that it was male. This news was both good and bad in Lynara's mind. On one hand, it would have been nice to share her mind with that of another girl, a companionship which she had always longed for and never had. On the other hand, this dragon was the last free male in all of Alagaësia – there was a very good chance that he would be the father of his race, unless Murtagh and Thorn somehow broke their bonds with Galbatorix.

Now, the first thing on Lynara's list of priorities was to find a suitable name for the dragon. She had fallen asleep with lays and ancient stories ringing in her ears, having recited them throughout the day in hopes of digging up a name that sounded fitting for the brilliant green creature that now occupied half of her mind. Though Anurin had been blind, she made sure to procure a massive amount of scrolls for her pupil to read, and now Lynara was finally thankful for them.

Next on the list, and the most worrisome, was what to do about her foster family. There was no doubt that they had now noticed her absence, though she was counting on a few more days before they actually acted upon it. Däsedr had never been kind to her, but at the very least he would want to find her in order to reprimand her for once again spurning his consideration of her welfare. The only thing that Lynara could think of doing at the moment was to try to find a place to hide, long enough for the dragon to reach a reasonable size before they would present themselves to Islanzadí and seek instruction.

Lynara unearthed the teapot from beneath the desk and carried it to the fire. "_Adurna rïsa_," she commanded. Water from a bucket by the wall formed into a sphere and floated across the distance to the fireplace. Lynara removed the top of the pot, and then directed the water to spill into it. Satisfied with her work, she lit a fire with a word from the ancient language and left the water to boil.

Anurin had tended a garden in a small square at the base of the oak tree, and Lynara flitted down through the branches to pluck a few vegetables from the soft earth. She washed them in the stream, and then devoured them raw, sitting against a rough tree trunk and listening to the sounds of the forest as it woke up.

After a few relaxing moments, a shrill chirping cut through the silence, and the now-familiar thought-images of hunger and loneliness bubbled into her mind's eye. Sighing, the raven-haired girl rose to her feet, dusted off her leather breeches, and then darted back to the oak tree, scaling it in four quick leaps. The green dragon was sitting on the windowsill, its favorite perch, eyes bouncing back and forth as it followed her ascent.

"Hungry, again?" she questioned incredulously. The dragon burped and blinked passively at her, before turning and sliding to the ground. It flapped its wings feebly but they were too weak to support its weight yet. With a waddling gait, the creature crossed the floor and then climbed fluidly into a chair, where it turned its piercing gaze on her yet again. Lynara watched the dragon thoughtfully for a moment. A new series of stories had popped into her as she was eating by the stream, along with a new list of names.

"Wenryn? Thilvör? Gildsklar?" she offered. The dragon remained silent, its thoughts conveying obvious boredom. "You're right," Lynara acknowledged as she paced back and forth in front of the door. "Nothing fits!"

Sighing, she crossed to the desk. A basket beside it was filled with scraps of meat that Lynara had collected. A spell cast over the basket kept the smell from permeating the room, but the sight of the red ribbons made her throat clench. Pinching the bridge of her nose and narrowing her eyes, she picked up one strip and tossed it quickly in the direction of the chair. The dragon's head popped up over the arm and snatched the meat out of the air, swallowing it whole. It glanced expectantly at her, waiting for more. She hurriedly threw three more pieces at the dragon, who leaped from side to side, obviously delighting in catching the meat.

When it sent an image that she had come to know meant the dragon was full, she dipped her hands in the water bucket and vigorously washed her fingers, sucking in breaths of the clean air gusting through the window.

The water had boiled by that time, and Lynara poured it into a teacup, her gaze lingering over the second porcelain cup that sat forgotten on the desk. A memory of Anurin's slender fingers tracing the delicate paintings of flowers that twirled around the handle of the cup, explaining how they had passed from her grandmother, to her mother, and then to her, sprang unbidden into her mind's eyes. A chill swept down Lynara's spine as she chased the thoughts away.

As the afternoon wore on, Lynara grew increasingly inventive with the names she came up with. Things like "Miloskwyn" and "Banderblödh" dropped from her tongue, and at each one the dragon gave a snort of disapproval. After the noon heat had faded, Lynara gathered the dragon into her arms and descended the narrow, winding staircase to the forest floor, where she allowed him to explore the shady undergrowth, never taking her eyes off his glittering green form.

Eventually, she had exhausted her supply of weird names and was returning to more normal ones. Still, the dragon had expressed no interest in any of her ideas. She went through another legend, that of Fundor, the dragon who had fought a giant sea serpent, but the small green dragon merely whistled and chirped and blew smoke from his nostrils, ignoring her completely.

Once darkness had claimed the forest and the night animals were beginning to awake, Lynara called to the dragon with her mind, waiting while it marched unhappily towards her through the undergrowth. She bent to her knees and the dragon crawled gracefully to her shoulder where it curled around her neck and began to hum contentedly. Casting one last look around to make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary among the trees, Lynara made her way make to the clearing, and then up the oak tree and into Anurin's moonlit home.

Slowly, fatigue beginning to weigh down her limbs, Lynara cleared away the tea and tidied Anurin's desk as best she could. When she turned to the look for the dragon, she found him seated on the windowsill, his narrow face turned up to stare at the full moon. A wave of emotion washed over Lynara as she watched him, the full enormity of her new position making her heart beat faster. This beautiful creature of legend was a part of her now, and they faced a troubling future, but Lynara knew that together they would rise above the evil that had leaked through their land.


	6. Naming

Sorry for not updating very fast in the past few days but I have had a ton of homework and stuff. I'll probably update once or twice a week, since I really only have time to write on the weekends. Anyway though, I've decided to change a few things. I said before that this is after what I think could possibly happen after Brisingr. Like after-after Brisingr, if that makes sense. But, I've decided to change that. Instead, I'm going to pretend that all of this is happening during the Siege of Feinster, and a little after. So everything that happened in Brisingr has happened, except that the green dragon egg has been stolen, but nobody knows how. You follow me?

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Three weeks had passed, and there had been no word from Däsedr. Lynara had neither seen nor heard from another elf in almost a month. At first she had been paranoid, expecting to see the pale, silver-haired elf crouched in every tree or peering from behind every bush like the proverbial shadow in the corner of her eye. After a week and half of silence, however, her fears had subsided. After two weeks, she had ceased searching for a new home for herself and the dragon. By now, she only thought of Däsedr or the 'first half of her life', as she liked to call it, perhaps once a day. The rest of her time was consumed with caring for and bonding with the green dragon, who had grown immensely over the weeks.

He had nearly tripled in size, going from the size of a small cat to that of a young pony. His head, albeit on the end of a long neck, reached high above her own, and his shoulder measured at about the same level as her ribcage. The dragon's tail was over five feet long, as thick as Lynara's torso by his flanks, and tapering to a slender whip-like end. Long, cream-colored claws extended from his muscular emerald-scaled feet, matching the lethal spikes that ridged his spine. The dragon's emerald eyes had lost some of their murkiness, and were now clear and deep, as akin to a polished green gem as Lynara had ever seen. All in all, he was a magnificent creature, and every time she looked at him, Lynara all but burst with the knowledge that he had chosen _her_ to be his Rider.

Lynara watched a mottled brown feather shoot by as the stream's current carried it into the trees. Her back leaned up against the smooth trunk of a birch tree, and a pile of colored stones sat at her feet. A clatter made her look up – the dragon had dropped two more stones on the ground, a purplish one and a black one with silvery veins. Wearily, Lynara picked them up and examined them. That morning she had expressed a wish for a good, heavy stone to use as a paperweight for all the scrolls that now lay scattered on the desk in their tree house. Immediately, the dragon had leaped from the window and fluttered to the ground, charging off into the forest.

At first Lynara had been alarmed, and she went running after him, calling to him with her thoughts. When she found him, he had amassed a great collection of smooth, round stones, and was weighing them carefully. This had gone on throughout the day, until both had forgotten what they were even looking for.

While the dragon amused himself by trying to find as many different colored stones as possible while testing his new ability of flight, Lynara had lounged by the banks of the stream, her mind running through the list of tasks that she had accumulated over the past few weeks. She meant to clean out the tree house and somehow make a better bed for the dragon (it had made due with a perch outside the bedroom window, but this was ideal for neither being, as it was cold at night for the dragon, and Lynara worried constantly that it would fall during the night and break it's neck).

Then, of course, there was the business of finding a suitable name, which had yet to provide successful results.

Lynara cried out as a stone was dropped directly on top of her head. It fell into her lap, a cold reminder of the new, vast region of her mind that did not belong entirely to her. She looked up into the intelligent green eyes of the dragon. It blinked, snaking its head around her shoulder to stare directly at her face.

_You like the stones?_

Lynara let out a half-scream, half-laugh and leaped to her feet, scattering the pile of rocks, and threw her arms around the dragon's neck.

"You speak!" she cried, elated.

_Yes._ The dragon's voice inside her head was like nothing she had experienced before. It was as if she herself was speaking, and yet her brain acknowledged the fact that the words were not her own. The dragon also had its own tone of voice – low and thrumming, like the strings of a harp mixed with the rumble of thunder, and then smoothed into a gentle, slightly melodious sound. _Now we understand each other._

Experimentally, Lynara thought a sentence, projecting the words into the other half of herself, across the mental bridge that made them one. _How do you know what to say?_

_I listened to your mind, and to your words when you spoke aloud to me. It is very not hard._

Laughing, Lynara corrected him: _Easy. It was very easy._

The dragon blinked, then flicked out its forked tongue as if to say, "I knew that."

"So what now?" Lynara murmured, happy to finally have a two-way conversation with the dragon. She relinquished her hold around his neck, but kept one hand wrapped firmly around one of his neck spikes, as if reluctant to surrender their newfound connection.

_I want a name. A better name than Dragon, and the others that you told me. I am not they. _

With a sigh, Lynara nodded. "You're right – we both knew that. But I can't _think_ of any more! I won't be able to name a leaf so long as I live, I've spent so long looking up names for you."

The dragon made a hacking sound in the back of its throat – dragon laughter. _There were many names._

They walked silently across the clearing to the tall oak tree where Anurin's house bulged from the trunk. The door was open, and light streamed into the little sitting room, where scrolls and bound books lay in random piles across the floor.

"I was considering three names just now that I liked. Maybe you will too," Lynara said thoughtfully. One of them is from a story, and the others I made up.

_What are the names?_ Asked the dragon solemnly. It seemed to take this whole business very seriously, which Lynara found somehow comical. A bonded dragon was the only creature she knew of that had a say in the choosing of it own name.

"The first, from a legend I read about the first Riders of the Varden, was Briam. He was a green dragon, whose Rider was Thurasíl of the elves, and they did many great deeds, including killing one of the Forsworn. I liked the sound of the name, and it has a good history."

Lynara could feel the dragon deep in thought, though what it was thinking she couldn't tell. Finally, it spoke up in her head: _I like it. It is a good name. But what are the others that you thought of? Perhaps I would be better off with a name that is solely our own._

Lynara liked how he said 'our own', so she smiled as she offered the second name. "Valkyr. It has a powerful sound, and stays in the mind. I thought it might suit you."

Again, the dragon dwelled in its own mind for a moment. Then: _This one I also like. I can feel it within my heart as though it is already my own. But go on, for I am sure of nothing yet._

Glad that he hadn't rejected the name, Lynara continued. "The last one is difficult. It's a fine name, but you might not want to carry it. It is Jaedr."

_Jaedr? Why is it tainted? _The dragon questioned. Lynara had forgotten that he didn't know much of current events.

"There are three other dragons in Alagaësia, as you know," she began. He nodded – this she had managed to get across. "Shruikan, Thorn, and Saphira. But only a few months ago there were four."

The dragon blinked, and curiosity flooded their link. Lynara continued. "His name was Glaedr, and his Rider was Oromis, a very old, wise elf scholar. They were both crippled after the fall of the Riders – Glaedr lost a leg, and Oromis' power had been broken by Galbatorix's torture." The green dragon nodded serenely. "They died in the battle for Ceunon, murdered by Thorn and Murtagh, who was controlled by Galbatorix, with underhanded trickery." Again, the dragon nodded.

_And so because Jaedr sounds much like Glaedr, who is a fallen hero, you think I might not want the name as my own? _The dragon clarified.

"Well, yes." Lynara murmured sheepishly, thinking he was skeptical. "The memory is raw in people's minds, and they might be offended by you carrying such a similar name. But of course, if you like it, it might not be any issue at all."

This time, the dragon was silent for many minutes. Lynara waited patiently, standing by his side with her hand still gripping the solid spike. Finally, he lifted his head slightly in order to look directly into her eyes.

_I have chosen_.

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Briam is pronounced like BRYE-um, Valkyr is pronounced like VAUL-keer, and Jaedr is pronounced like JAY-der. PLEASE!! REVIEW WITH THE NAME YOU LIKE BEST! I HAVEN'T ACTUALLY DECIDED, SO I NEED YOUR HELP! YOUR REWARD WILL BE THE NAME YOU PICKED BELONGING TO THE LAST FREE MALE DRAGON IN ALL OF ALAGAESIA! jk BUT SERIOUSLY PLEASE HELP ME!


	7. Vegetarianism has some Major Flaws

Thanks to 'Feng Yue' for reviewing and helping me choose a name. Hope you enjoy chapter seven! Sorry 'LunarEclipse', I liked the name Valkyr too, but I decided on Briam before I got your review, and now I'm sort of partial to it. Thanks so much though!

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The dragon stared at her for a long moment.

_Which name?_ Lynara asked in her mind, anticipation thrumming through her veins. Though it had seemed somewhat trivial and tedious before, Lynara now understood the significance of the choice that the dragon was making. This name would go down in history, and hopefully inspire fear in the hearts of their enemies, and joy in the hearts of their allies.

_Briam._

Silence permeated the clearing for a few heartbeats, as Lynara's clear blue eyes met the dragon's deep green gaze. Then a smile stretched across her face, and a laugh like the babbling of a brook spilled forth from her mouth. She hugged him around the neck again.

_Briam. A name worthy of such a glorious creature_, she said, opening all the barriers of her mind to welcome his consciousness into hers for a moment. They reveled in the importance of the moment and the satisfaction of making a decision. Then Briam withdrew and pulled away from her grasp.

_I must learn to fly_, he said solemnly, catching Lynara off guard.

"But you already can!" she exclaimed, the momentary elation wearing off. His great green head swung slowly back and forth.

_That is not what I meant. I can sustain flight, but not with you on my back._

Lynara's eyes widened. She had become so obsessed with her other worries that she had nearly forgotten the implications of being a Rider, other than sharing her mind with a dragon. Apprehensively, she stepped towards him and ran a hand across his shoulder, the smooth scales rippling against her skin.

_I'll be torn to pieces without a saddle_, she protested weakly, eyeing the deadly spikes that protruded from Briam's spine.

_Than make one. Eragon Shadeslayer managed it,_ the dragon retorted. Its mind was set, but Lynara uneasiness did not subside.

_He didn't make it – Brom did. Besides, I don't know how! I won't fly without some sort of saddle. _

Briam flicked his tail in annoyance. _Find a way. There must be directions on one of your rolled-papers._

Sighing with resignation, Lynara nodded. "There might be. I'll check…but you're so small! How will you carry me? You're no larger than a horse, and your wings won't support both of us. Let's wait until you grow a little bit bigger."

A growl rumbled deep in the dragon's throat, and he snaked his head forward to stare directly into her eyes. Lynara swallowed, only too aware of how easily Briam could mince her. But she instantly tossed the notion away – he could no more wound her than she could stick a knife in her own chest.

Wearily, Lynara scaled the oak tree, forgoing the narrow staircase, and crawled into the house, scanning the room for the pile of scrolls that she had organized – all the ones that had any small bit of information on dragons or Dragon Riders. She couldn't remember reading anything about making a saddle, but then again she couldn't remember much, considering how preoccupied she'd been. Lynara lifted the first scroll from the pile and scanned the heading: "Famous Dragons and their Riders". This was where she had found the name 'Briam'. Fondly, she placed the scroll on the floor and lifted the next. It was "Tales of Wild Creatures", which she had saved because there had been a paragraph on the habits of wild dragons. Continuing through the stack of scrolls, Lynara soon lost interest, and merely gave a quick scan to each paper.

Near the bottom of the heap Lynara found a scroll that looked promising: "_Du Shur'tugal_: Everything About the Dragon Riders". It was so convenient that she almost overlooked it. There was a list of every conceivable thing that someone might want to know about dragons or their Riders, except for the ancient language. As she read through it, Lynara realized that there was no mention of magic at all, except for a single sentence: "All Riders are able to use magic." Number twelve on the list was 'How to Equip your Dragon'. A straightforward and efficient way to make a simple, ready-to-use dragon saddle jumped off the page. With a smile, Lynara rolled up the scroll and clambered down the tree to the floor of the clearing.

_Briam!_ She called. _I found directions!_ The dragon was circling above the trees, testing his strength and attempting a few backwards loops. At her summons, he bent his delicate leathery wings and dove toward the treetops. Lynara felt no fear as he skimmed the tops of the trees and twisted through a narrow opening to land lightly on the forest floor. She could see in his mind that there was no chance of him falling or get hurt.

"Here, see?" she said, striding quickly to his side. She pointed out the scroll under her arm, smiling widely.

_ I told you_, was all he murmured, blinking passively at her.

Lynara rolled her eyes, and then settled cross-legged on the grass, unrolling the list. Briam stretched out next to her, his tapered head resting on his front talons. She cleared her throat, and then began to list the necessary items for making the saddle.

"A length of thick cloth about four yards long, an awl, strong cord – it doesn't say anywhere here to use leather, like Eragon Shadeslayer did!" Lynara cried, exasperated. The materials listed didn't seem appropriate for the kind of flying she and Briam would be doing.

The dragon blinked slowly. _Where do you propose to find tanned leather in Du Weldenvarden?_

Lynara opened her mouth to reply, and then shut it quickly, her fists clenching. _Of course. There wouldn't _be_ any leather. _Sometimes the elves' obsessive aversion to killing animals got on her nerves. She didn't like to eat meat either, but importing leather goods from _somewhere_ would be better than making do with thin elven cloth.

Suddenly, Briam's head jerked up, and a strange fire came into his eyes. _Let's go find some!_ He said, and if he could, Lynara would have sworn he would have smirked.

Lynara narrowed her eyes. "You mean steal some?" she questioned skeptically. The idea was wrong, but somehow intriguing. It would be nice to travel outside of Du Weldenvarden for the first time, and now that she was bonded with a dragon, she felt powerful, almost invincible.

_Perhaps. It's not as if we can't pay someone for leather,_ Briam said.

Lynara shrugged. "True." _But the prospect of an adventure is exciting. Let's show some poor Empire scoundrel what Lynara and Briam are capable of!_

A long white claw suddenly came flashing out to press on her hand. Lynara stifled a gasp of gain as Briam's claw dug into her flesh, though he didn't draw blood. _We are capable of very, very little_, he growled reproachfully in her head.

Lynara cringed, shying away from Briam's scalding gaze. _You are but a hatchling, and though skilled in magic, you can barely wield a blade. I am small and weak – no match for an army or another dragon. We must wait and receive training before we show _anyone_ what we are capable of. Still_, he digressed; _it would be…fun to venture out of the forest._ He lifted his claw, still glaring at her.

Lynara accepted his criticism willingly, although the words stung. Slowly, a plan formed in her mind. _I can't fly on you yet, since I won't have a saddle until we do this, so we must walk to the edge of Du Weldenvarden-_

Briam interrupted her, saying: _Just because I cannot carry you on my back in the air does not mean you cannot sit upon me while we travel across the land. Drape a blanket across my shoulders so that you do not tear your skin, and thus we can walk to the edge of the forest, and on from there._

After thinking for a moment, Lynara nodded. "Good idea," she said aloud. "It won't be the fastest method of travel, but maybe it will be good practice for flying together, and we can talk. We will go to the nearest town, where I can buy some leather, and then head back to the forest. I don't see what could go wrong, so long as you hide well and I disguise myself as a human."

_And you are sure that this Däsedr will not send someone to search for you?_ Briam asked.

"He's probably grateful not to be responsible for me anymore," Lynara muttered blackly.

_Then we have a plan!_ Briam said, and a trickle of smoke wafted from his nostrils.

"Yes – we have a plan," agreed Lynara, a sly smile spreading across her pale face.

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I don't know if I made it very clear in this chapter, but the flaws that Lynara will have are that she is often arrogant and headstrong. I'll introduce other ones later on, but those are the major personality ones.


	8. Dalburn

A breeze swept across the plains, caressing the golden blades of grass as it made its way beyond the hills. Twisting and rippling, swirling in on its itself and then looping back, the gust of pure air came in sight of the first stunted trees that marked the edge of the plains and the beginning of forest of Du Weldenvarden, wherein the cat-eyed elves dwelled in houses sung from the trees. The wind executed an intricate pattern of dips and curves, and one tendril snaked through the leaves of a tall shrub, momentarily exposing a glint of bright green, before it twisted and swirled away again.

_You should hide us with a spell,_ Briam remarked to Lynara after shying away from the hole in their enclosure. The two creatures of magic were crouched behind the shrub, having spent the night curled in a hollow between two boulders a few yards away. Lynara was still bleary-eyed from sleep, a rather irritating necessity that she had inherited from her human father. Elves didn't need sleep the name way humans did, and at the moment Lynara would have enjoyed their nearly limitless endurance.

_Not until we reach a town,_ she replied across their mental link.

_What if we pass a traveler before that? _Briam retorted, shuffling his wings and opening his maw wide in a wild yawn. Two rows of glistening white fangs protruded from his pink gums, and Lynara marveled at the power that must be contained in one snap of the dragon's mighty jaws. Enough to sever the neck of a strong deer, and more. She shuddered involuntarily, once again intimidated by the brute force of her new partner, something that would take a little while to get used to.

_If we pass a traveler out here, where no roads lead to the forest, than it would be a strange traveler indeed, and one skilled in magic, I would think. No one wanders at the edge of Du Weldenvarden without purpose, unless they are mad or known to the elves, _Lynara explained. _And if they should prove to be an enemy, it will be good practice._

Briam blinked at her and muttered, _Practice for what?_ But he did not expect an answer, and Lynara didn't give him one. Instead, she rose lithely to her feet and stepped out from behind the shrub, carrying a sack of food and tools on her back. She was dressed in leggings and a long tunic, made from the pale cloth of the elves.

A short, thin dagger in a green sheath hung from her hip. The blade itself was of pale steel, well used, although not a single scratch marred its surface. Its edge was as sharp as the day it was forged, as with all the elves' blades. The sheath Lynara had pried out of the bottom of a forgotten chest beneath Anurin's bed, and muttered a spell over to turn it from drab gray to the soft green color that it now bore.

Lynara had never learned to wield a sword, and was only mildly accomplished with a bow. Instead, she had spent many years learning how to fight with a knife from another elf that guarded Du Weldenvarden's perimeter. He was a strict and unforgiving teacher, and the days that Lynara had spent with him were some of her worst remembered, and yet the training had served her well. She was glad now of all the torment she had endured to gain the skills she now possessed.

The two figures advanced across the plains, Lynara walking with a hand wrapped around Briam's neck spike. Though she could have ridden on his back, she preferred saving him the extra effort when she was plenty prepared to walk. The city that they were aiming for, Dalburn, lay sprawled at the edge of Isenstar lake, only a few miles from the edge of the forest.

Anurin's clearing lay south of Osilon, and it wasn't far from there to Dalburn – perhaps only a two day's journey, of which one day had already passed. The pair wanted to avoid Gil'ead if at all possible, so Lynara had chosen Dalburn because it was farthest from the huge city, closest to the edge of the forest.

They stopped midway through the day to escape the heat of the sun in the shade of a stunted tree, Lynara wolfing down a few handfuls of dried fruit, while Briam snapped up mice and prairie gophers that were scurrying back and forth among the shrubs. Now, Lynara pulled the thick wool blanket from her pack and draped it across Briam's shoulders in such a way that her legs would be protected from the chafing of his scales. They proceeded like this for the rest of the day, Briam plodding wearisomely in the general direction of Dalburn, with Lynara sitting between his shoulders, her arms wrapped around his neck and her head resting on the pack that she had tucked in front of her to make sure it didn't fall off. Once or twice she drifted into a waking slumber, her gaze passing over their surroundings but taking nothing in.

Briam had vast stores of energy had his disposal, but by nightfall even the great dragon was tiring. Lynara clambered down from his back, tied the pack to his shoulders with a crude knot, and then raced ahead to see how close they were to Dalburn. She only had to run for a mile or so before the lights of Dalburn became visible in the blackness. When she returned to where she had left Briam, curled beside a small pond, she relayed this news.

_We have only a half an hour before we reach the town!_ She said excitedly, pulling food from their bags and spreading the blanket on the hard earth beside the pond. Briam stretched opulently, glad to be rid of the cumbersome replacement for a saddle. He set about licking grime off of his glittering hide while Lynara started a fire with magic and purified some water for them to drink. After filling herself with food and water, the half-breed girl settled down in her nest of blankets, staring up at the sky.

Briam stretched out beside her once his grooming was finished, and contentment permeated the link in their minds, coming from both ends. The connection slowly closed up as Briam drifted into the realm of sleep, but Lynara stayed awake, staring at the sky.

She had realized long ago that it was futile to dwell on her heritage and the mystery of her future, and instead convinced herself to live in the present. Occasionally, however, stray forbidden thoughts wormed them way into her brain, refusing to be pushed away. Tonight, she could not help but think on her parents.

Marien had been a princess of elves, daughter of a past king, beautiful beyond compare, with pearly white skin, smooth raven-colored hair and bright, merry blue eyes, the somewhat dulled equivalent of which her daughter had inherited. The elf woman had explored the land with her best friend, another glorious elf of noble lineage, when it was still safe for elves to wander abroad. After her ruined love affair with Lynara's father, she had retreated deep into Du Weldenvarden, leaving her daughter in the care of her nephew.

Narsor, her father, had been a hero in his time. Before the Fall of the Riders he had been a member of the Varden – not a Rider, but a strong commander of a squadron of foot soldiers. Lynara had no memories of him, as Galbatorix's henchmen had killed him before she was born. All that she had of her father was a chipped fairth that her mother had made after his death, and one of the few things she had left to her daughter. He had been a tall, strong man, and handsome, with dark brown hair and depthless brown eyes. The fairth pictured him garbed in royal attire, with a gilded sword hung at his hip and a hawk perched on his shoulder. Lynara often wondered if her father had really been so noble looking in life, or whether the fairth was so infused with her mother's love for Narsor that it portrayed him as a king, as opposed to a common soldier.

Shaking away the thoughts she new would never be resolved, Lynara forced herself to clear her mind, as Anurin had taught her. Scattered images faded away to a blissfully calm nothingness. The stars winked in and out of focus until Lynara finally drifted to sleep.

-

_Wake, young one. The sun rises and our adventure must begin._

_…_

_LYNARA! WAKE UP!_

Lynara jerked awake, her eyes flashing open. Immediately, she groaned and reached up to shield her face from the glaring light of the sun that was emerging from over the low horizon of Isenstar lake in the distance.

Briam stood looming over her, his eyes bright with the prospect of an exciting activity. When he noticed that she had risen, he opened his jaws and let forth a fearsome roar, unfurling his wings and shaking his head back and forth. For a moment, Lynara remained too stunned to move, and then she opened her mind to their mental link and shouted, _Be quiet! Someone will hear you!_

Briam finished his ululation and then snapped his jaws shut with an audible clicked. _I don't really care_, he retorted, but then he sheepishly murmured, _I'm sorry. I did not think._

As she packed away their things, Lynara said out loud: "That's okay – anyone would probably think it was Thorn. Besides, we're far away. Come on – we should get moving."

She tied the pack around her shoulders and set off in the direction of Dalburn, Briam slinking sedately by her side.

_What is your plan?_ He asked as they walked.

Lynara brushed a stray strand of black hair behind her pointed ears, considering their options. "I haven't given it a ton of thought," she began. Briam snorted, smoke billowing from his nostrils. Irritated, Lynara continued, "But there's an easy way to pull this off."

_What is that?_ The dragon questioned.

Thinking for a moment, Lynara spoke: "You'll have to hide outside the town – I can't make you invisible with magic, and your far too conspicuous to pass through the town unnoticed.

Briam growled deep in his throat. _I don't like it, but it is the only option I can see besides charging in with claws outstretched, which doesn't seem practical. Will you merely march in, buy leather, and march out? Somehow I don't believe it will be possible for you._ He emitted a hacking laugh.

Lynara laughed along with him – it was true. But then they both grew serious as the wall of Dalburn finally became visible along the horizon. Lynara could make a wide gate facing east, where a road could be seen snaking off into the distant plains. Dust rose in small clouds along the road, where presumably people traveled. They both unconsciously picked up their pace. Before they grew close enough to the town for normal eyes to make out their forms, Briam selected a dry streambed, overhung with tough brown shrubs, to hide in. He cleared a space and then settled into it. Lynara removed all of the unnecessary, heavy items from her pack, including the scroll on how to make a dragon saddle. Things like the blanket and food she left inside in case she was searched and needed to fabricate a story.

They said quick farewells, and Lynara muttered a spell that would make everyone else see her ears and eyes as those of a human girl. She quickly donned a rough linen dress, forgoing her more comfortable breeches and tunic. The dagger she concealed in the folds of cloth at her waist. Prepared, she set out across the dry ground.

Lynara angled towards the road, hoping to arrive unnoticed among the other scores of travelers heading to and from Dalburn. It took her about an hour to reach the busy path, as the closeness of the town was deceiving in this flat landscape. Lynara pulled a ragged shawl around her shoulders and bent her head, attempting to look as unassuming as possible as she melded into the stream of humans.

Shouting clamored in her ears and dust clogged her nose as she shuffled along towards the gates of Dalburn. She was jostled and cursed at numerous times amidst the confusion, and it took a massive amount of willpower not to spit at the person in the ancient language. As she walked, Lynara recalled her lessons in speaking the common tongue of humans, with Anurin. She had been fluent in it for many years, so speaking with these people would be no problem but it was the accent that she had to remember. Living among elves gave her voice a melodious, fluid tone, which she would have to roughen in order to blend in.

The gates loomed above her after a few minutes, and Lynara felt excitement and apprehension well in her chest as she peered over the heads of the other travelers and into the busy city. She had visited Osilon recently, and Ellésmera a few times as a child, but elf cities were nothing like human cities, even at their busiest. Here, houses sprung from the dry earth like piles of rough-hewn twigs, and people crawled amidst the chaos like ants in an anthill, heedless of others.

Suddenly, a spear came swooping down in front of her, barring her way. Lynara looked up, shocked, ready to rip out her dagger and fend off her attackers, but then she realized that it was merely one of the guards at the gate, stopping her to ask her name.

"What be your name?" asked a bored-looking blond man, holding the spear level with her chest and looking off in another direction.

Mustering her courage, Lynara drawled, "I be called Mina, if'n you care," she replied in a perfect imitation of his thick twang. The man glanced at her for a moment, his eyes flickering over her flawless face, then flicked the spear over her head and muttered, "Prah-ceed." She did, stepping daintily past him and through the wide wooden gates.

Inside the city, the noise was even greater and the dust even thicker. Lynara looked about in wonder until someone rammed into her shoulder. Disgusted, she hurried further into the town in hopes of avoiding some of the chaos at the gate. As she scanned the streets for signs of a leather-working shop, her eyes were caught by a large board, on which were pinned two pieces of parchment with faces drawn upon them. Lynara scurried closer in order to read the writing. One read: "WANTED FOR TREASON AGAINST THE KING: Eragon Dragon Rider. Reward offered for capture." It showed a picture of a human-looking Eragon Shadeslayer, with round eyes and a squat face. Lynara frowned, thinking, _How ugly he was before the dragons made him an elf._

Shrugging, she turned to the next poser, which offered the same reward and made the same blaring accusation of Roran Garrowsson, Eragon's cousin. This picture Lynara did not recognize, for she had only heard the name Roran Stronghammer in lays sung about the famous warrior. She studied his face, committing it to memory in case they should meet somewhere.

Lynara continued on, thinking of the posters and of Briam hiding in the streambed, his glistening scales sullied by dust. He was too far away for her to contact with her mind, which made her nervous as she peered into windows searching for a leather shop. Finally, she passed a man who looked as if he might be able to give her directions.

"Excuse me, sir!"" she called from across the street. The man glanced up as she walked towards him, and after he had gotten a good look at her face he seemed taken aback.

"Yes, miss? What can I do for you?" he queried. The man was tall, with long black hair and brown eyes. In his hands he clasped a broken bow and a half-full quiver of arrows.

"I was wondering if'n you knew where to find a leather-worker's shop. I'm passing through 'n' I need to buy some leather to patch my father's bags. Is there one near here?" she asked innocently.

The man looked down at his bow and squinted, then replied haltingly, "I'm quite sure there's a tanner in the north part of town who can cut some leather for you, if that's what you're in need of. He charges a lot but the quality is good."

Lynara curtsied and thanked the stranger, then hurried in the direction he indicated. She smelled then tanning vats before the reached them, and quickly muttered a spell that would clear away the stench. Pulling a money purse from within her sack, Lynara skirted two buildings until she reached the vats, where she found a tall, skinny man with stringy black hair beating a deer hide that was stretched between two wood poles.

"Tanner!" she called. The man whipped around, searching for the voice, and inclined his head at her. "I want to buy some leather. Have you any for sale?"

The tanner dropped the stick he was using to beat the hide and strode over to her, wiping his greasy hands on a grimy apron hanging loosely about his waist.

"Aye, I've got some hides done in the front. What'll you be wanting it for?" he asked. His voice was as oily as his hands, sending Lynara's skin crawling. Avoiding the man's beady eyes, she wracked her brain for an explanation. After a second, she decided to just go with the easiest answer.

"I need leather for a new saddle for a pony," she replied. It was easier than making something up on the spot.

The man ran a hand over his head, making it obvious how his hair got so filthy. Lynara swallowed her disgust, waiting for the man to say something.

He nodded slowly. "Why don't you just buy a new saddle?" he demanded, staring at her.

Lynara resisted the urge to squirm under his black gaze, murmuring, "I dunno. My father asked for it. We've got a saddle but I think he means to patch it up. Said he needed…four yards. Strong leather. Besides, my mama needs new aprons."

The tanner remained silent for a long moment, his hands absentmindedly twisting his dirty shirt into wrinkled knots. Finally, he grunted and shoved past her, gesturing that she follow.

"That's a lot of leather – it might be quite expensive," he said, walking back to the front of the lot, where a large warehouse stood, slightly lopsided. He threw open a pair of sagging doors, revealing stacks of square-cut leather along one wall.

Lynara waited for him to walk in, wary of the man's intentions, and followed a little ways behind, her hand lying lightly on the hilt of her dagger hidden in the folds of her dress.

"How many were ya wanting again?" asked the tanner, crouched on the ground, shifting some of the stiff leather from stack to stack and occasionally lying a roll on the ground.

"Four yards," she answered, watching him sort through the thick hides. The tanner grunted again, and then gathered a pile of rolled leather and stood up again, facing her.

"That'll be twenty crowns," he demanded, extending the pile of leather. Lynara's eyes widened at the steep price, but she held her tongue, accepting the leather while counting coins from her purse. She stuffed the hides into her pack, then handed the tanner his desired amount. He accepted the coins greedily, a hungry look in his eyes, and counted them carefully.

"Thank'ee much sir," Lynara muttered darkly, shouldering her pack.

"These are nice coins," he remarked in reply, holding a glittering silver piece up to light. "Clean. Haven't been traded much. Where're you from, anyway?" The tanner looked from his payment to glare suspiciously at her. "Are these real? Trying to trick me, are you?" he growled.

Lynara's heartbeat picked up, and she blurted the first town that came to mind. "Ceunon," she lied.

"Why're you all the way down here?" The tanner demanded. He was advancing towards her, and Lynara's slender hands once again found the knife at her waist, "Are these coins real?"

Nodding frantically, Lynara flung words out like a shield between herself and the tall man. "My family is moving to Gil'ead – me father's a soldier, see, and the damned elves have captured Ceunon in the north. He wants t' get work with the Empire. None to be found up there. Probably elves' coins."

The tanner paused in mid stride, inclining his head. After a tense moment, he shrugged. "Aye. There ain't good work in those parts anymore. Thank'ee for the business, lass." Then he scurried past her out of the warehouse, disappearing into the back of the lot once again.

Lynara released a long breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her heartbeat slowly returned to normal as she walked back into the light of day, relaxing even more once she was in sight of the street. No one cast her a second glance as she proceeded back the way she had come. The gate was still just as chaotic as before.

"Mina, is it? Found what you were looking for?" said the guard at the gate, his eyes drifting from her face to her chest. Lynara nodded curtly and whipped past him, quickly picking up speed as she hurried down the road. When she was far enough away from the city gates not to be seen by watchmen on the walls, the elven girl darted off the road and broke into a full sprint, racing across the dusty plains in the direction of the riverbed where she had left Briam.

_Briam! _She shouted with her mind. She got no response, and Lynara picked up her pace, eager to come within speaking distance of him.

Finally, she recognized a tall boulder that had seen that morning on her journey to the town, and she shouted out with her mind again. _Briam! I got leather!_

Again, there was no answer. Lynara slowed her pace, beginning to get worried. Had he moved? She was sure she had been able to speak to him from this far away before. Fear replacing the relief in her mind, Lynara emitted another mental yell, and again there was only a vast silence. Panic now clenched in her throat, and she burst into a flat out dash.

It took only another moment for her to reach the beginning of the dry riverbed. Coming to a near stop, Lynara crouched low to the stone covered ground, the banks of the river rising on either side of her. There was a bend in the river ahead, and she remembered leaving Briam around the other side. _Briam?_ She called again. Nothing.

Breathing hard, Lynara approached the bend, her heart hammering. She dropped the pack as quietly as possible and withdrew her dagger from its sheath, holding it ready in front of her as she crept forward.

With a cry, she rounded the bend, expecting to see her dragon held down my iron chains with a troop of the Empire's spell casters surrounding him. Instead, the scene she saw was entirely different. Briam was crouched exactly where she had left him, the ripped open carcass of a plains deer lying at his feet. For a moment Lynara wondered why hadn't answer her cries, seeing nothing amiss, but then she noticed the fire burning low on a bed of coals to his left, and the pile of white canvas bags left neatly beside it.

"You have much to explain, Lynara, daughter of Marien," came a silken voice, along with the crunch of gravel and the feeling of cold steel against her throat. Lynara jumped, but a hand suddenly snaked around her shoulder, holding her in place.

"What have you done to him?" she hissed venomously, her grip tightening on the dagger.

"I only had him swear in the ancient language not to answer you if you called to him," replied her captor.

"At least _show_ me who has the shame to bind a dragon in such a way," Lynara growled. There was a pause, and then the knife was removed from her neck and the strong hand whipped her around. She found herself facing a tall, slender elf, with shoulder length silver-blonde hair and narrowed green eyes. He was male, although with elves it was often difficult to tell. A narrow sword was strapped to his waist, and he was garbed in a pale brown tunic and leggings of elven cloth. Behind him stood a second elf, this one also male, with cropped black hair and similar green eyes. He was dressed in the same way.

"I am Isktar, son of Lóin, and this is my brother, Linmáros," the blonde elf introdudce. "We serve the beautiful Queen of the Elves, in her conquering army, as scouts and rangers. The Queen will be interested in meeting the newest Dragon Rider. I suggest that you come with us willingly, or we will be forced to incapacitate you."

"You have no right," Lynara growled, and she heard a similar growl from deep within Briam's throat. "I am a Dragon Rider! Do not the elves honor dragons above all creatures?" She held her chin high and glared straight into the green eyes of her subjugator.

The elf hesitated, glancing at his companion, who in turn glanced sorrowfully toward Briam, who was still crouched tensely behind his meal. The dragon eyed them both maliciously, as if considering whether they would be worth eating after they were dead. The black haired elf swallowed, then turned back to his brother while speaking to Lynara.

"Of course we are ashamed of what we have been forced to do, but you put all the elves at risk with your hazardous behavior. Not to mention, being a Dragon Rider, you have an obligation to the Varden that you are clearly not fulfilling. Therefore, we have deemed it necessary to put you under the protection of our Queen for the time being, in order to ensure that you carry out your duty." The black-haired elf, Linmáros, did not look at her as he made his speech, but merely stared at his brother as though they were having their own private conversation.

Defeated, Lynara let her tense limbs go slack. Isktar eyed her warily, then shrugged and released her arm. She rubbed the place where his strong hands had bruised her skin, then immediately strode over to Briam.

The dragon watched her approach with a mournful gaze. _I'm so sorry, young one,_ he murmured to her in mind speech. _They spelled me so that I could not warn you. _He shuddered. _It was horrible, as though you were walking off a cliff and I could not catch you…_

The force of his discomfiture surprised Lynara. She placed a hand on his neck and traced the smooth pattern of scales. Behind her, the elves were dousing the fire and pacing their supplies, preparing to leave. A pair of footsteps made Lynara turn. Linmáros was striding towards them, one hand placed lightly on the gilded hilt of his sword. He stopped before Briam and bowed, low enough for his sword to brush the ground, and then straightened and twisted his hand over his chest in a gesture of respect.

"_Skulblaka_," he murmured in the ancient language. "Forgive me for the disgraceful act we were forced to commit. I assure you, it was only to ensure your Rider's safety. If you can, forgive my brother and I – we bear no ill will towards you. By my honor and that of my kin, I swear to serve you and your Rider with the utmost loyalty in the future, and hope that we can absolve our debt to you in time." He then bowed again and walked away.

Briam lifted a claw and flicked a small pebble into the air. _I forgive them. They did not mean me harm. But I will hold the black-furred one to his word for treating me in this way. They should know better than to trick a dragon. _He curled his lip, exposing two tapered white fangs.

"Lynara Shur'tugal, we must return to the elves in Ceunon. You are to present yourselves to Islanzadí. Then, perhaps, if you are ready, you will be sent to fight with the Varden in the south. I hear that the siege of Aroughs goes well. You might well see the end of it," said Isktar. The wistful look in his eyes suggested that he would have liked to see the end of it as well.

Linmáros appeared from the top of the riverbank leading three pure white horses. They were elven horses, strong and intelligent beyond compare. All the same, Lynara balked at the idea of riding a horse over Briam. The dragon seemed to share her opinion, and at the sight of the horses he stretched out his neck and released a fearsome roar. The elves cried out with alarm and the horses tossed their heads and rolled their dark eyes.

_I will not allow you to be separated from me again_, Briam protested. Lynara voiced his preference to the elves, who glanced at each other again with pained looks.

"We were expected to return to the Queen today. We cannot delay any further, and as your dragon is too young to fly with you, although he is strong, the journey will be far faster on horseback," Linmáros pleaded. Isktar merely looked irritated, but he held his tongue.

_I must, Briam,_ Lynara said to him, stroking the thick muscles in the dragon's neck. He lashed his tail and blew thick clouds of smoke from his nostrils, his indignation flooding Lynara's consciousness.

_Very well – but I shall fly directly above you. They cannot stop me this time._

With that, Briam charged forward. The elves reached out to him, shouting for him to stop, but he ignored them. Instead, after he had gained some momentum, he unfurled his massive wings and launched himself into the air, gaining yards of altitude with every flap. It only took a matter of seconds before he was soaring back to them.

The elves, watching this, both uttered delighted cries, exclaiming at the beauty of the creature that swooped and dived effortlessly above them. Lynara watched Briam proudly, her heart swelling.

_You are indeed a magnificent beast_, Lynara remarked as she tied her pack, heavy with the leather she had bought, to the saddle of her horse. Linmáros had introduced the animal as Hunmír. The half-breed girl swung herself gracefully into the saddle, not ignoring how inferior a horse was to a dragon. Briam's smugness clogged her mind for a moment.

"Gánga," she murmured, and the horse took off at a swift trot, following in the footsteps of the others.

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As you might imagine, that chapter took me a REALLY long time to write, so PLEASE review so my effort wasn't wasted. Hope you liked it!


	9. Battle

Okay chapter…is it nine now

Okay chapter…is it nine now? This chappie might not be quite as long as that last one because I have a lot of homework that I should be doing. I'll try though…

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"What is the name of your dragon?"

Lynara jumped, blinking away the sleep from her eyes. She peered around, momentarily disoriented by the pressing dark of night. After one quick scan of her surroundings, she had gotten her bearings. Linmáros rode directly next to her on the trail, his black hair shimmering slightly in the moonlight. The glow of Isktar's white horse was barely visible far in the distance, and Lynara could feel the slight eddies of wind from the downbeats of Briam's powerful wings above her.

Clearing her head, she turned to Linmáros and replied, "His name is Briam. He hatched for me a month and a half ago."

Linmáros nodded sagely, his gaze following the green dragon who was experimenting with tight turns and other maneuvers in the air. "He is a magnificent creature, by all accounts. I have never seen a dragon, for I was born after the fall of the Riders, and was not privileged enough to meet Eragon Shadelsyaer on his visits to Ellesméra. They are even more beautiful than in our songs and legends."

Lynara flashed a small smile. "I don't pretend to be a learned elf, but I would agree with you. I am reminded every day when I wake up and feel his presence in my mind how lucky I am. And I won't ever forget."

"As it should be," Linmáros murmured in reply, bowing his head. They plodded along in silence for a long while after that. Lynara did not know exactly where they are, except that they were traveling toward Ceunon. A vague green haze on her right told her that they were close to Du Weldenvarden's edge.

"Why do we not ride through the forest to reach the city?" she questioned Linmáros. The elf cocked his head, glancing down at his mount.

"There are many reasons, but primarily because it would not be good to reveal yourselves before Islanzadí knows of your existence. There are many who would seek to use you, as a Rider, to their own ends. We seek only to protect you, and in this matter, it is best to stay hidden for now." His hands twisted the reins into intricate knots, then with a flourish he straightened out the leather.

Lynara knew there was more to his explanation than her safety, but it was obvious that he wasn't about to tell her, and she was too tired to insist. Instead, she leaned forward again on her Huthmír's neck, her spine aching from the constant jolt of the saddle. They had been almost nonstop since leaving the outskirts of Dalburn, through the rest of the afternoon and into the night. Even now, when the first pale fingers of dawn were reaching above the edge of the world, the tireless elves showed no signs of stopping.

A sudden thud of hooves once again shocked Lynara out of her reverie, and she leaned back up in the saddle, brushing locks of smooth black hair out of her face. At first she thought someone was attacking them, but as she got a better look at who was coming near, she realized that it only Isktar, galloping furiously towards them. Linmáros met her gaze for a second, then turned to greet his brother.

"What brings you back, brother?" asked the black-haired elf, murmuring in his horse's ear. The beast came to a slow halt, awaiting Isktar's approach. Lynara paused stopped beside him.

_What's going on?_ Briam inquired. Lynara felt a rush of air as his wings flapped overhead. There was a pause, and then she heard the snap of his wings as he pulled out of a dive, and the muted thud as he collided with the hardpacked ground.

_I don't know. Isktar's come back._

The silver-haired elf reined in his horse a few feet on front of them. His face was still as grave and solemn as ever, but his features were more animated than she had ever seen them.

"A company of Galbatorix's soldiers approaches on the western road, on horseback. There are ten, maybe fifteen of them, in full armor," he explained to his brother. Lynara now realized what had him excited – he wanted nothing more than to fight the soldiers. She grimaced.

Linmáros' eyes widened. "_Fifteen?_ There are only two of us-"

An ear-splitting roar rent the silence, and both the elves jumped, their horses shying away from the sound. Lynara barely even flinched, so accustomed was she to the crash of Briam's anger.

_Tell them: Three elves and one dragon is more than a match for fifteen puny soldiers. I shall tear them limb from limb if they so much as put a scratch on your blade._

"Briam thinks we can beat the odds with…three elves and a dragon against fifteen men," Lynara conveyed, leaving out the gory details.

Miserably, she said to Briam: _I am not an elf._

_That does not matter. You have as much a right to call yourself an elf as them, if you so wish,_ the dragon retorted.

Isktar and Linmáros glanced at each other, their shoulders tense. They whispered a few words, and then Isktar suddenly wheeled and raced away, into the shadows ahead.

Lynara watched him ride away with apprehension. "Do we have to fight the soldiers?" she questioned of Linmáros.

The elf was rummaging in the canvas pack tied to his saddle, and he gave a short, muffled reply. "We do. There is nothing for it. They saw Isktar, and they heard Briam;s fearsome roar. Even now they ride faster to meet us in battle."

"How can you tell?" Lynara asked. Briam was stretching and flexing the iron muscles in his legs, preparing to rip soldiers from head to toe.

"The vibrations of the earth tell me many things," the elf replied cryptically. After a moment, he pulled a battered sword sheath from his pack. Lynara eyed it curiously. The sheath was made of plain brown leather but embroidered with the colorful designs of birds. The sword that Linmáros drew slowly into the light was slender and slightly curved, the metal a dark gray color, with a hilt of black leather, the pommel of which was a huge black stone.

"What kind of stone is that?" she couldn't help asking. It was no gem she knew, but it looked as hard as a diamond.

"It is _únglötr_, the black stone found only among the fire-mountains in the far east of Alagaësia. This was my mother's sword. The legend of the stone is among our most beloved of the old scripts." The elf ran a finger fondly down the edge of the blade.

_Someday I should very much like to hear that story, but not today_, Briam remarked to Lynara. He turned his great head to glance at her.

_You should ride on me,_ the dragon suggested. _That way I can protect you with my teeth and claws, and you can protect my flanks and wings. We will also need as much experience fighting together as possible. Can you sit on my back without hurting your legs?_ Briam bent to his knees as Lynara slid from her horse.

"Are you going to ride the dragon?" Linmáros questioned, watching her excitedly.

"Yes. He figures we need the experience," Lynara answered. She drew her pale dagger from her own pack and slung it at her hip. The black-haired elf's eyebrows jumped as he saw this.

"Do you not carry a sword, _Shur'tugal_?" he queried, surprised.

Lynara shrugged. "I never learned to wield one."

The elf gave a quick laugh. "You cannot fight with just a dagger. I have an extra weapon in my bag. It's not a Rider's sword, but it's a good blade, and will serve you well. Better than a knife, I should think." He laughed quietly to himself again and turned to his packs again.

Lynara's temper flared. "You have clearly never seen a master fight with a knife. Let us see who fells more warriors today, Linmáros, son of Lóin. It would do you some good to learn the skills of a small blade."

The elf did not seem convinced, but he nodded politely and did not offer her a sword.

In silence, they waited for a few minutes for, until a faint shout reached Lynara;s ears. Linmáros heard it to, and he murmured to her: "That is my brother. He has sighted the soldiers around the bend in the trail ahead. He will try to slow them with arrows, but more will come. Isktar will give us a signal in a moment."

The darkness pressed in on Lynara, crouched in the hollow between Briam;s shoulders, her fingers clenched around the hilt of her dagger. She could feel Briam's tense muscles beneath her, ready to spring.

_If only we had had time to make that saddle,_ she remarked. No sooner had the thought left her mind than the form of Isktar's white horse appeared around the bend in the trail. He neared them in a moment, breathing hard.

"They approach." His short account only made Lynara more apprehensive about the impending battle. "I shot one, maybe two, from their mounts, but the rest still draw near. Prepare yourself, dragon, Rider. These are trained soldiers, and they will not hesitate to strike at you."

Lynara nodded, too anxious for sharp retorts at the moment. In a mere matter of seconds, the thundering hooves of the Empire's men were audible, and then with a burst of color and dust, a group of thirteen men, clothed in the bright crimson uniforms of Galbatorix's army, appeared around the corner of the trail.

At the sight of the men, Lynara felt Briam's muscles suddenly clench, and she instinctively clapped hands over her ears. Not a half a second later, the dragon opened his jaws to their full width, exposing a mouthful of lethal ivory fangs, and a roar that could shame even the most terrible of wild dragons boomed from the depths of his chest. Even with her hands over her ears, the force of his bellow shook Lynara's entire body and made her ears scream for a full minute afterwards.

The soldiers came to a jerking halt, their horses rearing and shrieking in fear. The elven horses emitted whinnies of discomfort but did not bolt, so much more intelligent were they than common beasts of their kind. After successfully frightening the soldiers and forcing them to stop, Briam pushed off from the ground, extending his wings. He didn't lift into the air, but merely leapt forward, flapping to gain as much momentum as possible, and charged at the small company of soldiers.

Linmáros and Isktar released battle cries in unison, urging their mounts forward at Briam's flanks. Their intimidating charge had the desired effect – the Empire's men scattered in panic, and some were even tossed from their horses, which were delirious with fear.

Linmáros overtook Briam before he reached the soldiers, and swung his strange blade in a high arch, neatly decapitating a red-shirted soldier who was foolish enough to turn and face him. Once they reached the soldiers, Briam immediately lunged forward and ripped a man in half with his treacherous claws. Blood spattered his muzzle and Lynara's pale tunic. She stared at the corpse for a moment, sickened, and then suddenly wretched over Briam's side, her sight going fuzzy.

_What is wrong?_ Briam asked anxiously in her head.

_I've never seen the inside of a person before_, Lynara replied matter-of-factly, somewhat recovered.

_You will kill many more in your lifetime, Lynara, and now is not the time to think about the people who die by your blade. Here, climb off my back, and make good your promise to the black-furred elf._

Lynara did as she was told, sliding down Briam's scaled shoulder and unsheathing her dagger in one fluid movement. She tied the belt and sheath to one of Briam's neck spikes, and then search for an opponent.

By now, only eight soldiers remained alive, and only three of them were on horseback. They had spread all around the surrounding the area, making it more difficult to catch every one. Once she had climbed off his back, Briam lifted himself into the air, and then dove away to chase the three men on horseback. Isktar was far down the path, engaged in a furious battle with a burly man who carried two thick swords in either hand. The elf was obviously gaining the upper hand, but Lynara figured it might be a little while before he vanquished his foe.

Lynara turned to see Linmáros flitting over to her, fleeing the blade of a skinny swordsman who looked to be about sixteen. At first she was surprised to see him running from an opponent, but then as he neared it was obvious that he was merely trying to get closer to her.

"I have killed two, Rider. What is your count?" the elf queried. The young swordsman was gaining on him, and the elf turn to fend him off before Lynara had a chance to answer.

The elf lifted his blade, prepared to bring it down on his enemy's head. Before his blade fell, the swordsman suddenly stopped in his tracks, his face going pale, and then dropped at Linmáros' feet, his limbs slack.

Lynara darted around the stunned elf and snatched her dagger from the soldier's chest, where it had pierced his armor directly over his heart. The soldier had been dead before he hit the ground.

"That's one for me," the blue-eyed girl threw back over her shoulder as she ran to find another opponent. Linmáros stared after her, his jaw hanging open.

The previous night's dark blanket had lifted, and the plains around them were cast in a pale purple glow. Four soldiers remained, darting about in the shrubs like frightened rabbits. Briam, with blooded claws, leapt into the air and wheeled around, targeting a lanky man who was trying to sneak past the elves on the road. The man gave a shriek of fear and began to run, but Lynara knew he had no chance. As she turned away, she heard Briam give an answering roar and then the rush of wind as he tucked his wings into a dive.

Isktar was pulling his sword out of the stomach of the heavyset warrior, his face smeared with streaks of crimson blood. Linmáros had recovered from the shock of watching his adversary fall at his feet, and was running in wide circles, closing in on a panicked man who cowered behind a stunted tree, his voice rising and falling in a mournful wail. The other two soldiers were standing back to back behind a tall boulder, thinking they were invisible to Lynara's gaze. If she had been a normal being, they would have been, but through Briam's eyes, the soldiers were clearly visible, murmuring to each other in the shadow of the rock. Lynara relied on the dragon's sight as she crept towards the stone, her dagger weighing heavy in her hand.

With a loud cry, Lynara rush around the rock, surprising both the soldiers. The first she slashed across the arm as he tried to deflect her blow with a non-existent shield. The man screamed, clutching his elbow, watching in horror as blood welled between his fingers. His yell was cut off as Lynara twirled and stabbed the dagger into the back of his throat. The soldier fell forward onto his bloodied arm with a gurgle.

By now, the other man had had time to collect himself, and was standing with his back to the rock, holding his sword out in front while hiding his face behind a black shield. Lynara paused to wipe her dagger on the grass, keeping one blue eye on the terrified warrior. She noticed, with a grim snort, that his shield trembled slightly at the sight of her.

"Please," the soldier choked, his voice unnaturally high. "Have mercy, elf! Have mercy! I have a wife, a child! They will have nothing if you kill me! Please have mercy!"

"You will betray my dragon and I to Galbatorix. There's nothing for it," Lynara replied matter-of-factly, though somewhere deep down her heart constricted at the sound of the man's pitiful pleas.

"I won't! Oh gods above, please, I swear I won't! Just let me live! I'll-"

The knife sunk deep into his shoulder, prompting a blood-curdling scream of pain that interrupted his speech. Again, the stained silver flashed in an arch over his head and pierced the metal plate over his collarbone, slicing through leather, cloth, and skin. The man howled again and dropped to his knees, clutching his neck, his face pale.

Lynara stood behind him, barely panting, watching with a grave face as the soldier clawed at his armor, trying to pull it off in an effort to staunch the bleeding. His attempts were futile, however, and with one more swipe of the knife, the man was dead. Carefully, Lynara reached out and closed both of the soldier's eyelids, shuddering at the tough of his skin, already going cold. She did the same to her other victim, and then quickly fled the seen. On the other side of the boulder, the battle was long over. Isktar and Linmáros were wandering among the dead, collecting weapons and other useful things, while Briam cleaned gore off of his talons.

_That was fun_, he said to Lynara as he watched her approach. The black-haired girl didn't have the energy to respond. She climbed onto Briam's neck with half-hearted tugs, and collapsed, shivering, into the hollow of his neck.

_I've never killed anyone before, _she remarked after a few heavy breaths.

_Don't dwell on what must be. It is the natural way of the world, young one. Kill or be killed, as dragons say. Those men were not good mean – they served the enemy, and have killed many more innocent people than you. Always remember this, Lynara: As long as your blade fells those who have evil in their hearts, let evil not be in yours. You fought well today – the black-furred elf will have a thing or two to learn from you, I should think._

Lynara smiled weakly. Her palms were cold and clammy, and her limbs trembled like leaves in a gust of wind. She made no move to help the two older elves, who were making their way back to Briam and the horses.

Once Linmáros reached her, the elf sheathed his sword and strode boldly up to Briam's side. He turned his face up to Lynara, perched on the dragon's back, her gaze blurry.

"I have never seen anyone with skills to equal yours while fighting with a dagger. It is a useful tool, to be sure, but I have ever seen it wielded as such an effective weapon as it is in your capable hands. Please forgive me for doubting your prowess." Linmáros finished his speech with a graceful bow, and then strode away as quickly as he had come.

Briam snorted, pale smoke trickling from his nostrils. _He has asked for forgiveness from us twice now – some day we should remember to call in those favors._

Lynara tried to form a coherent though to reply, but she could barely muster her consciousness.

"Lynara _Shur'tugal_, you must ride on your horse if we are to reach the Queen by nightfall," came Isktar's detached voice. The last thing Lynara heard before she drifted into a dreamless sleep was Briam's low growl, and the shuffling of hooves as the elves set off into the sun, the green dragon slinking beside them, his Rider curled between his folded emerald wings.

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Erm…I apologize profusely for the gory battle scene, but I got quite into it as I was writing, as you might have noticed. There were probably a bunch of mistakes in this last chappie, but I'm way too lazy to go back and correct them. Sorry.


	10. The White Spire oo in the distance oo

Hey, so…chapter ten. Two things:

1) I was thinking it'd be a good idea to get a Beta for this story, since whenever I read back through the chapters to remember what's been going on, I find so many grammar mistakes that I missed that I actually feel sort of sick. (I'm usually good with spelling, but I write each chapter so fast that I mess up a lot). If anyone is interested in helping me out with that, just review or PM me.

2) If I were to somehow introduce another dragon (which really isn't foreshadowing at all since I pretty much make everything up as I write, and because I'm really just asking this out of curiosity) what color do you think it should be? It can't be blue, red, black, green, or gold, which covers all the major colors. I was thinking purple, but for some reason I have a really hard time imagining a purple dragon that could retain even a shred of dignity. The same with bright yellow or pink. In that case, the only other colors available are brown (ugh, ugly), silver (which also doesn't look right too me), white (possible, but a little weird) and orange (which is a major stretch for me since I don't even like the color orange). Help me with this, please!

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The clear sound of a trumpet call sliced into Lynara's consciousness. Her mind fought furiously against the intrusion, but in the end, reality won, and Lynara was slowly drawn out of a deep, warm sleep.

The sun had begun to set again, heralding the end of their second day on the road. When Lynara raised her head, she was surprised to find herself facing the shore of a massive lake the stretched into the distance with no visible opposite coast. The water was calm and glassy, a rich midnight blue color. On her left, the familiar haze of green that was Du Weldenvarden appeared much more defined, indicating that they were closer to the forest's edge. Ahead, Lynara squinted to make out a tall silver spire, surrounded by a cluster of white.

"Good. You are awake," came a curt voice. Lynara peered around Briam's neck to see Isktar seated upon his horse, watching her with a disdainful expression. Linmáros was nowhere to be seen, along with his horse.

_The elf went to scout ahead. We've been resting for a little while,_ Briam explained. She felt his scales shift under her and realized that the dragon was lying on the ground, his legs curled awkwardly underneath so as to keep Lynara stable. Guilty, the blue-eyed girl quickly climbed off of him. Briam immediately rose to his feet and gave a long, extensive stretch, unfurling his wings and shaking them out.

_That feels good,_ he remarked.

_Sorry,_ Lynara apologized. _I was tired after fighting the soldiers._

_It is nothing_, the dragon replied, but she could feel his relief at finally being able to stretch his limbs.

"Where is your brother?" Lynara asked of Isktar, even though Briam had already explained his absence.

"Linmáros went to greet the watchmen of Ceunon. He seeks an audience with the Queen to explain about you, and will ask her to journey away from the city to meet us out here, where no spying eyes can convey the information to the Black King or his henchmen," the silver-haired warrior answered briskly. He didn't meet her gaze, as if she were inferior to him. Lynara's temper flared for a moment.

_I'm a Dragon Rider – he should show me some more respect. I could roast him in his saddle with one word of the ancient language,_ she said indignantly to Briam.

_Perhaps_, the dragon murmured, but Lynara could tell he didn't agree.

_Do you doubt me?_ She asked, more out of curiosity than anger.

Briam turned slowly to gaze at her where she stood awkwardly beside him. He shuffled his wings, and then flopped lazily to his belly, tracing a circle in the dust with his talon. _I don't doubt you. Of course I would never doubt your skills in magic, knowing you as well as I do. But I would warn you think before you make such assumptions, young one. There is a very good chance that Isktar is a magic user, and if he is much older than you, which I do not know, he might be stronger than you, despite the fact that you are a Rider. Never, ever underestimate your opponent. It is a fundamental rule of fighting with magic._ The dragon stared at her intently for a moment, then looked away, his eyes reflecting the glassy surface of the lake in the distance.

Lynara sighed and strode toward him, sitting down with her back against his front leg. The dragon shifted his wings to make room for her head.

_ I wouldn't have attacked him without knowing his strength,_ she defended herself.

They all remained silent for a while, Isktar leaning back against the flank of his horse, reading a scroll, Briam resting, and Lynara contemplating all of the issues that she and Briam faced for their future. After a moment, a thought struck her, which she 'voiced' to Briam across their mental link.

_Do you remember anything of your time in your egg?_

The dragon's eyelids closed with 'snick' and then opened again, his eyes rolling back out of his head. _A little, though I was barely conscious. Why do you ask?_ He replied.

_I was just thinking,_ Lynara explained. _We still don't know how your egg was stolen from Galbatorix. Do you know who it was that rescued you and sent you to Du Weldenvarden?_

Briam shook his huge head slowly. _No_, he said. _I was not even aware that I was out of Galbatorix's foul dungeon until I felt Anurin's presence in my mind._

Lynara sat up, her eyes widening. _Anurin? You felt her touch your mind?_

Briam gazed solemnly back at her. _Yes._

Lynara waited for him to explain further, but the dragon seemed satisfied with his brief answer. She sighed and leaned against his leg again.

_Why do you call me 'young one'?_ She asked a moment later.

Briam huffed indignantly. _You ask too many questions,_ he complained, but continued anyway. _I have lived far longer then you, albeit a half-life inside my egg. However, I was as capable of cognizant thought as I am now, and I contemplated many things while I waited for the right moment to hatch. Though I may seem young to you because I only hatched a month or two ago, I have much more knowledge of the world and its mechanisms._

Lynara traced the edge of one of his scales. _For some reason_, she mused, _I don't even have a response to that. It makes perfect sense.  
_Briam began to hum contentedly.

Suddenly, Isktar lifted his head. He quickly folded the scroll and stuffed it into the saddlebags, his gaze trained on the road stretching out before them.

"What?" Lynara queried, getting quickly to her feet and unsheathing her dagger. "More of the Empire's soldiers for us to gut?" she muttered with a chuckle.

Isktar glanced over his shoulder with such a look of disdain that Lynara had to resist releasing a demeaning spell from her lips. Briam huffed quietly, and uncurled with a shuffle of scales, opening his massive jaws wide in a bored yawn before rising to his feet.

"My brother approaches, with a squadron of the Queen's guard," Isktar explained, not deigning to turn and speak to Lynara's face. The elf-human girl gritted her teeth.

_Some day he'll be sorry for insulting me_, Lynara said sharply to Briam.

The dragon blinked at her as if to say, 'I'd like to see that when it happens.'

Lynara turned to her own horse and untied one of the canvas sacks, drawing out her pale green dagger and looping it around her hip. Then she drew a wooden comb through her hair, straightened her tunic, and tied an emerald green cape around her shoulders. The cape had been another gift from Anurin, and was made of an incredibly fine silk that felt like water in one's hands. With the cloak, she hadn't used a spell to change the color as she had with the dagger's sheath, and she felt even better wearing it knowing that it's original color matched that of her magnificent companion.

It did not take long for Linmáros and his entourage to appear after that. There was a thundering of hooves on the path, and then a cloud of dust, and within seconds a group of ten white horses had encircled their motley party.

Linmáros cantered forward out of the circle and dismounted, striding towards Lynara.

"Speak first," he directed her, gesturing at the circle of silent horses. The dust fell in eddies around them. Linmáros pointed a slender hand at a tall elf, garbed in red and purple, who sat aside a glorious, muscular stallion. Upon his lay a helm of pure gold and silver, inlaid with the insignia of Islanzadí's elite guard. "That is Neidnör, son of Aranthmé, and the captain of Islanzadí's guard."

Lynara took a deep breath and, squaring her shoulders, stepped forward to face Neidnör. The solemn elf's face was obscured by his helm, but his black eyes were visible beneath the shadow.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin," Lynara greeted, keeping the nervous waver out of her voice. She was aware of how childish she must seem, barely mature by the standards of the elves, although she had been born over twenty-three years ago. This elf could very well be over five hundred, and here she was talking _at_ him as though she were an ignorant human girl. With another shaking breath she calmed her thoughts.

The elf replied with the traditional phrase in a deep, melodious voice like the strumming of a massive harp. He didn't move a muscle, nor did his men, until Lynara finished speaking. Then he turned in his saddle and spoke the same words to Briam, with Lynara translating.

Finally, after all of the formalities had been finished. Nedinör turned his helmeted head to stare at Lynara for a long moment. Then he suddenly slid out of his stirrups and dropped to the ground. He strode forward and bent on one knee before Lynara, holding out a sheathed broadsword.

"You have come to us in our time of great need, Lynara _Shur'tugal _and Briam Gemscales_._ I have heard stories of your heritage, daughter of Marien and Narsor, and you must carry a great burden because of this. But I ask of you, and on behalf of all the races of Alagaësia, to aid us in our quest to rid the land of the filth that is Galbatorix and his rule."

The black-haired girl stared at him, unsure of what to say. She felt Linmáros by her side, hesitating, but ignored him.

_Briam? How should I reply?_ She questioned of the dragon. He was crouched behind her, ready to leap to her aid if the elves attacked. She could hear the minute chafing of his scales as he shifted position.

_He has asked nothing of you that is binding. Merely make a polite reply, and say no more, or they may use it against you. We must be careful, Lynara – as Linmáros said, there are many elves who would exploit you to their own ends if they could somehow get their claws on you, _the dragon replied wisely.

Lynara nodded to herself, and then addressed Neidnör. "I dislike the Black King as much as any elf, human, dwarf or dragon whom he was wronged," she explained. "I will do all in my power to rescue Alagaësia from his grasp."

The elf looked up at her, his eyes searching. Then he boomed in his harp-strings voice, "A sound answer!"

A cry rose from the group of elves, who lifted their weapons into the air and cheered. Neidnör nodded to Lynara, his helm throwing rainbows in the afternoon sunlight, and then mounted his stallion again. Linmáros released a relieved sigh.

"Well said," he congratulated Lynara as she turned away.

"I really didn't say anything," she protested.

Linmáros gazed at her for a moment, pausing in mid-stride, then murmured, "Precisely." A smile twitched at the edges of his lips. Then it was gone, and he had loped past her, toward Briam.

"The Queen will supply you with all the necessary equipment – saddles, armor, and other tools. Our armor is not of the tough make of the stout dwarves, but it is light and will protect you from but the most powerful, well-aimed blows." Then the black-haired elf turned to Lynara, his eyes flickering to the green sheath at her hip. Lynara's hand fluttered to the dagger as if to protect from Linmáros incredulous glare.

"As skilled as you are with a knife, _Shur'tugal_," the elf murmured, "I believe it is high time you learned to wield a sword. A Rider won't survive many battles if he can't swing at his enemies from on high." At this he gestured to Lynara's favorite perch between Briam's shoulders. He cast one last concerned glance at her before darting away to speaking to Isktar and Neidnör.

Lynara stroked her dagger's sheath as she returned to Briam's side. The green dragon eyed her nonchalantly and twitched his lip, momentarily exposing a glistening white fang. The elf-human girl used the spikes on his spine to drag herself into the hollow behind his neck, where she wrapped her arms around him and leaned against his warm scales.

_Soon my neck will be too thick for you to fit your skinny arms around_, Briam remarked, ruffling one wing.

Lynara grunted and made no reply.

A moment later, the noise died down, and Lynara guessed that the leaves had finished talking. She discerned footsteps coming closer to her, and looked up into Linmáros' green eyes.

"Are you going to ride your horse or Briam?" he asked, leading Huthmír behind him. Briam snapped lazily at the horse, who merely glared indignantly back.

"I thought Briam can't walk fast enough for you all," Lynara replied flippantly, too bored and tired to make any more effort to be polite. Linmáros eyes hardened.

"Snap out of it," he hissed. Lynara flinched with surprise. It was the first time she had ever head the black-haired elf come anywhere close to anger or exasperation during their short journey.

Shocked out of her insolence, Lynara replied quietly, "I'm sorry." Linmáros nodded sagely and continued.

"The Queen decided to remain in Ceunon rather than meet us outside the city borders, due to some unrest within her soldiers' ranks that needs to be sorted out. We will enter the city through a…'back door', if you will, where she assures us that only she and a few choice advisors will meet with you." He finished with a cautious expression on his face, watching her.

_What do you think?_ Lynara asked of Briam.

_About what?_ He replied. _It's nothing to think about. Of course we'll meet with the Queen of the Elves, on whatever terms she pleases. Come Lynara, we're not _that_ high-ranked, especially when we're still young and untried._

Lynara grimaced. He made it sound like she was being stupid. She turned to Linmáros and answered quickly, "Of course. And…I think I _will_ ride Briam, if it's alright with you."

Linmáros seemed to understand what she was getting at by the look on her face. Briam was quicker. _Excellent!_ He exclaimed, shaking his head in anticipation.

"You don't have a saddle!" the elf protested weakly. He knew she had already decided.

"It's not far – besides, I can tie a blanket to his neck or something. I want to try it – and now's as good a time as ever…We'll fly to Ceunon."

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Kind of a weak ending but I really want to get this chapter out before I go to sleep. GOOD NIGHT.


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